Unsettled
by flamedwing
Summary: A paragon Shepard wrestles with Saren Arterius: the monster, the man, the memory, and the mess he left behind. Garrus listens and tries to understand. She struggles and he watches, unable to stop the Spectre who haunts her.
1. The Methods of a Monster

1. ** The Methods of a Monster**

Shepard woke, a scream trying to claw its way out of her throat. Wires and flesh, blood, teeth and shearing metal flashed behind her eyelids. The Protheans haunted her, tormented ghosts crying out for a savior, fifty-thousand years too late to help. She could still hear the whine of the saws, the agonized screaming ...

She forcefully pushed it aside and sat up in bed, activating the clock's holo-display: 0300 aboard the _Normandy._ She rubbed at the corner of her eye, just above the scar on her cheek. Another early morning.

Shepard pushed herself to her feet in one smooth motion and headed to the mess.

This late, the deck was empty save for the sleeping pods nearby. There was no fear of waking the crew, but Shepard was loathe to break the peaceful quietude. The gentle thrumming of the engines soothed her, the heartbeat of the ship like a mother's comforting hum.

She activated the replicator in the makeshift kitchen, chartreuse green eyes blinking owlishly as the haptic interface sprung online. Once adjusted, she made some coffee for one. While it brewed, she went back to her quarters to snag a datapad from on her workstation. She activating the screen and resumed reading where she had left off.

She frowned. Saren's past reports to the Council weren't exactly soothing reading. Then again, she spent a good part of her days chasing the bastard. _What difference does a little more contemplation make?_

She tucked the datapad under her arm and walked back to the console to get her coffee.

Shepard poured herself a cup, took a swallow and suppressed a grimace. _Yuck. Better tell Kaidan to keep trying._ She smiled to herself. The Lieutenant was always tinkering with the replicator in his moments off, handsome face scowling in concentration at the uncooperative machine. It was a wonder all that staring at wires and haptic displays didn't set off a migraine.

Of course, as biotics, they had to eat almost twice as much as other soldiers. _So,_ Kaidan said, brown eyes laughing, _why shouldn't it taste twice as good?_ She shared the sentiment, though he still had a long way to go before success.

She made her way to the table in the mess and sat down. She could have, and maybe should have, returned to her quarters.

Shepard looked down at herself, wryly. It probably wasn't proper for the commanding officer to walk around the ship in her sleepwear. But honestly, her quarters were the last place she wanted to be right now.

Snatches of the Prothean vision sprung back into her mind. Shepard vigorously shook her head, fighting to keep the screams at bay.

She took a sip of her coffee, trying to focus on the datapad.

 _I wonder if Saren ever dreams of them._ Her brows knotted at the thought. He'd seen the same things she had, the beacon and the Cipher. The death throes of an entire race weren't exactly easy to ignore. He had to know he was helping their executioners. So _why_...?

She heard a soft sound. Her head snapped up, eyes scanning the room.

A dark shadow shifted in the hall. There was a soft breath and Garrus sheepishly stepped into the dull orange circle of light from the overhead lamps. The reticule on his visor shifted with the sudden change in light, obscuring his eye.

"Garrus," Shepard said, keeping her voice low to hide her surprise. "What are you doing up?"

His mandibles flared and he rubbed his neck. "Just stretching my legs, Commander." He shifted awkwardly, the orange light sliding off his crest. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

She set the datapad down and waved away his apology. "You weren't bothering me, Garrus." Actually, she was rather grateful. Saren wasn't exactly the best of company. "Most people don't think the middle of the night is a good time for exercise, you know."

He shrugged. "Well, turians don't sleep as much as humans. We sleep a couple of hours at a time, usually." His mandibles twitched in a way Shepard was coming to understand as humor. "I usually just walk around or work on the Mako."

Shepard waved at him to sit.

"If you don't mind my asking, Commander, what are _you_ doing up?" Garrus sat, carefully folding his legs to avoid knocking his spurs against the chair. "I thought humans needed about eight hours of sleep?"

She gave him a weary smile, brushing her black hair away from her face. "We can function with less. Coffee helps." She gestured at her cup. "Unfortunately, sleep doesn't come easy for me these days."

She took another sip, smiling grimly around the cup. _Not that it takes the skills of a former C-Sec officer to figure it out._ Even Dr. T'Soni figured it out, socially awkward as she was. Though to be fair, after seeing the visions through Shepard's own mind, Liara probably understood better than anyone.

"What are you reading, Shepard?" The orange of the lamps muddied Garrus's normally steel blue eyes into a brownish-grey. "Anything interesting?"

Her smile dropped away and she put the cup down. "I guess you could say that."

"Commander?"

"When I became a Spectre, I asked the Council for any records about Saren." She stared at the pad, hair falling over her face like a black curtain. "Anything that could tell me what contacts he might have, how he thinks, plans, strategizes." She glanced up, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Garrus nodded. "Good thinking."

She looked back at the pad, still frowning. "I also contacted the Hierarchy for anything I could get. Military service records, assignments, evaluations ..."

"The Hierarchy gave _you_ records?"

The shock in his voice startled a laugh from her.

"I am a Spectre, after all." She snorted at the skeptical look on his face. "I convinced them it wouldn't look good to block a Spectre's investigation. I asked them nicely to send anything useful. I even made a point of saying that I didn't need any information on classified ops."

That was understating the wheedling she had to do. She contacted them as a Spectre, not Alliance, but Garrus was right. _It's not like they could miss my humanity._ The redactions showed their opinion pretty clearly.

Garrus leaned forward. "Did you learn anything?"

She frowned again, looking down at the pad. She remembered him saying he'd tried to get Saren's records himself, back when he was investigating the case for C-Sec. _Of course, he didn't have the clearance. Saren's information had been classified long before he became a Spectre._

"Well, you were right not to trust him. He _was_ hiding things. I don't know, Garrus. None of this sits right with me." She put an elbow on the table, propping her head up as she read. "Some of this, I read and wonder how the Council could just sit by knowing this and not _stop_ him."

"They sent _you._ "

"After the fact." She drummed her fingers on the table. "The Council knows their Spectres: their tendencies, their moral stances. Or lack of, in Saren's case. I _know_ sometimes extreme measures are needed. The ends justify the means, necessary evil and all that. But if Spectres are instruments of the Council's will, Saren is a nuclear bomb."

"A ... bomb?"

She looked up at Garrus. His mandibles were fluttering in what she could only assume was confusion.

"Saren kills indiscriminately." Shepard frowned. "He doesn't care if you're good, bad or indifferent. All lives have the same value to him: basically nothing. He would've done anything the Council told him to do."

The worst part was that they _knew._ Other Spectres had moral objections and lines they couldn't cross. _Saren has no boundaries._ His only limitations were ones the Council put on him, and they were damned few.

"I don't understand, Commander," Garrus was saying, slowly. "Are you saying the _Council_ was telling him to do these things?"

"Not exactly, no." She exhaled, trying to figure out a way to explain. "Saren is ... not sane."

"No kidding, Commander."

Shepard shook her head. "He'd save someone one minute and kill them the next if it served the mission. He doesn't see things in right and wrong, good or evil. Just _actions_ and _consequences._ Saren would have saved lives if the Council told him to, but the Council has other Spectres for that. He was valuable because he _didn't_ care about saving lives."

"So, the Council ignored it because it benefited them." Garrus leaned forward, mandibles tight. "But we knew that. Isn't the whole point of being a Spectre to be above the law?"

"It's one thing to have discretion, Garrus." She speared him with a look. _Are we back to this again?_ "What he was doing was _not_ discretion. Remember when I said if you didn't care about people you're supposed to protect, you were a terrorist with a badge? That's _exactly_ what Saren was."

The things Saren had described in his reports, the cold, almost clinical way he described what he did ... And these were what the Council gave her. She was afraid to imagine what was in the ones they _didn't_ give her, or what details Saren had conveniently left out.

Shepard rubbed her arms, warding off a shudder. "Torture, murder, you name it. Even if it would violate the Citadel Conventions, they were willing to overlook it if he got results and no one could point the finger at them."

"Is there evidence he broke the Conventions?" Garrus pointed at the pad with a talon of his three-fingered hand.

"You mean besides using the geth and Sovereign? Of course not!" Shepard huffed. "He's not stupid enough to put it in his reports." She gestured at the datapad. "He's a ruthless, brutal bastard who doesn't care who lives and dies. But reading this, it's hard to doubt his loyalty to the Council. That's why none of this makes any sense."

"But you just said he was willing to do anything, Commander." Garrus cocked his head. "Why wouldn't he turn on the Council if given a chance?"

"Everything I'm reading shows he believed it was all for the 'greater good.' Why throw it away to work with the Reapers?" She looked up at him again, troubled. "I know he hates humans, but he's hated humans a long time. What changed?"

"Maybe he saw his chance for power," Garrus said, shifting in his seat. "Sovereign and the geth could give him far more power than the Council."

Even as he was talking, Shepard was shaking her head.

She looked at the datapad again, as though the answers would be there. "I think he sees power as a means to an end. He _likes_ getting his hands dirty. But what end does he achieve by helping the Reapers? They want to exterminate all life— humans, turians, everybody. He has to know they wouldn't just destroy humanity, but also anything he's ever thought was worth saving."

Garrus shrugged. "Maybe he just wants to save himself."

"And throw away _everything_ he's ever tried to accomplish?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Saren may be a lot of things, but he's not a coward. Why _help_ the things that want to destroy everything you stand for instead of trying to stop them?"

Garrus was silent, looking down at the table. Apparently, he was just as stumped as she was.

She looked down at the datapad and absentmindedly took a sip of coffee. She grimaced. It had gotten cold. She set the cup down with a harsh clatter, and pushed it away.

"I don't know, Commander," Garrus said at last. "Maybe there's something missing from the reports you received. Either way, does it matter?"

 _Did_ it matter? On one hand, they had to stop him. No matter why he was doing it or what his motives were, she couldn't let him see it through. On the other ...

"Maybe if I knew _why_ , I could make him stop." She rubbed her temple. "He knows more about the Reapers than anyone. Like you said, he's always one step ahead of us. If he would help us, maybe we could find a way to stop the Reapers."

"What?" Garrus' mandibles dropped. "After everything he's done, you'd work with him?"

She sighed. "I don't like Saren's methods, but there's a reason he was the Council's top Spectre. He isn't fit for society, but he _is_ an effective weapon. He has no empathy, no fear, no morals. He'll do anything to win. Against the Reapers, well, we can't afford to lose."

"He's already tossed everything aside. Do you really think he would help?"

"No, not really. Whatever's motivating him, I think he's long past seeing reason." She looked up at him, giving him a quirky little smile. "Not that I won't try, if I get the chance." The smile dropped again. "But you're right. No matter why he's doing this, we have to stop him from succeeding."

* * *

Shepard lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling of her quarters. It was fine to say they had to stop Saren, no matter what. But how could she explain this insidious feeling of doubt in her mind?

She learned a long time ago to trust her gut. It kept her alive on Akuze, when every way looked like death. When things didn't feel right, they usually weren't. And now, her gut was telling her that something about this puzzle didn't fit.

She rolled over in bed, hugging the pillow.

No matter what she did to turn it over in her mind, she couldn't find the missing piece. _What_ is _it?_

Saren was a monster; there was no two ways about it. If she'd gleaned anything from his reports and the evals about him, it was that 'terrorist with a badge' was putting it lightly. _Of course, Anderson could have told me that._

Shiala had called him charismatic, but Shepard couldn't see it. To her, Saren had all the charisma of a rabid dog.

 _Then again_ , she thought with some humor, _some people call_ me _charismatic, too._

It was obvious morality meant nothing to him. He did seem to have a sort of code, but Shepard had no doubt that if circumstances demanded it, he would break it.

His job seemed important to him. Maybe being a Spectre fulfilled something in his life he couldn't generate on his own. But then he threw that away by betraying the Council.

 _He has to have_ something _to motivate him, some guiding purpose to strive for._ She just couldn't _see_ it.

Saren had to know what would happen if the Reapers returned. There weren't any Protheans left. The Reapers destroyed them all and burned their empire to the ground. Couldn't he feel their despair? Didn't he hear their screams in his mind? How could a person to know those things and ignore them?

How could someone go from protecting the galaxy to wanting to help destroy it? The Reapers would annihilate everything, and then what would he have left?

Shepard sighed and turned over again. She was just going in circles.

 _If nothing else,_ she thought as she put the pillow over her head, _at least the Protheans agree with me._

* * *

 **A.N.:** Part 1 of 4!

One of my greatest disappointments in Mass Effect is Saren. I feel he was a character with a lot of potential. Unfortunately, that potential wasn't really explored at all. I even read _Mass Effect: Revelation_ hoping for some development of Saren, but alas, it was not to be.  
I see Saren as basically the most extreme kind of Knight Templar you can imagine. _Revelation_ pretty much portrays him as your common psychopath, and that's fine, really! A psychopath with the full authority of the law, who is above the law himself, and feels the ends justify the means is a great base for a Knight Templar. I just don't feel he was utilized to the fullest extent possible.  
That's only part of my motivation for the fic, though. The main reason is that on one play-through, I really noticed that paragon Shepard seems to have a strange degree of empathy for Saren. Of course, paragon Shepard has a high degree of empathy for everyone, but there was something about the reaction to Saren specifically that caught my attention. So I tried to get in a paragon Shepard's head to see what it was about. The Shepard in this fic is Aleta Shepard, my paragon, spacer, sole survivor vanguard.

Comments, critiques, reviews, opinions or what have you all welcome!


	2. The Madness of a Man

2\. **The Madness of a Man**

Garrus dove behind a crate, a biotic blast whizzing past him.

 _Damn it,_ he thought, kneeling with his back against the box. _Is_ anything _gonna go right?_

From the moment they landed on the planet, nothing had gone according to plan. First they'd had to fight through an army of synthetics to find the lost salarian team, then when they'd found them, the salarians' only plan was to do a suicide run and plant a nuclear bomb in Saren's base. When they'd infiltrated the base, they found Kirrahe's missing men, captured and brainwashed into fighting them. Then, just as Williams had brought out the bomb, Kaidan came on the comms under a geth ambush. So Shepard left Ash to set it up and they headed up to the AA Tower to assist.

Just when it looked like it was clear, Saren swooped in, throwing biotic blasts. Everyone scattered, and now Garrus couldn't see anyone.

"Why are you doing this?" Shepard's voice shouted from somewhere. The geth scattered crates all over the platform, giving cover, but it played hell with the acoustics. He couldn't pinpoint Shepard's position and the HUD was remarkably unhelpful in this close of quarters.

 _Why doesn't she just shoot him?_ Garrus fumed. Why was Shepard trying to _reason_ with that madman? It was pointless!

"You've seen the vision from the beacons, Shepard," Saren said from somewhere above. "You, of all people, should understand what the Reapers are capable of. They cannot be stopped."

Garrus scowled. _He's crazy. Just_ shoot _him, Shepard!_

He worked his way to the edge of the crate and peered around.

Saren had Wrex pinned down adjacent from him, the scarred krogan battlemaster's bulk barely hidden by a crate. Kaidan was nowhere to be seen.

Garrus signaled to the red-crested krogan, waiting until Wrex's ruby eyes turned his way. _Do you have visual?_

The old krogan shook his massive head. Garrus snarled silently.

"Do you really believe the Reapers will let us live?" Shepard's voice seemed closer.

Garrus worked his way to the other side of the crate. There were more shipping containers stacked up on this side, but there was a gap between them. He risked a glance before ducking back into cover. He could just see a black-haired biotic human crouching behind a large container. Unfortunately, it wasn't the human he was hoping for.

From his estimate, Kaidan was right under Saren's position. Fortunately, Saren couldn't see him from where he was. Unfortunately, if Kaidan moved any he'd be right in Saren's sights.

 _Damn it_. Saren had height and mobility. No one could move without drawing his attention. And Garrus still didn't know where Shepard was, if she was in cover or standing out in the open having this chat!

"But if we work with the Reapers," Saren was saying, "if we make ourselves useful— think of how many lives could be spared!" The voice seemed to be coming from the upper right. "Once I understood this, I joined Sovereign, though I was aware of the ... dangers. I had hoped this facility could protect me."

"You're afraid Sovereign is influencing you," Shepard said from somewhere on Garrus's left. "You're afraid it's controlling your thoughts."

That hoverboard was going to be trouble, Garrus just knew it. As much as he'd love to put a well-placed round in Saren's head, he had to be realistic. Accuracy was going to be difficult.

There were obstacles in their way, but Saren's hoverboard granted him plenty of mobility. Not to mention those shields. He hadn't got a good look in those few seconds before ducking into cover, but based on a glance, they were going to be problematic.

He switched to his assault rifle. It was his best bet to get through those kinetic barriers.

Saren was still talking. Garrus was surprised he hadn't started attacking yet. He had the tactical advantage but wasn't taking it. _Why?_

"Tell me why Sovereign needs the Conduit," Shepard said, trying another tack. "Tell me what it is. Maybe we can find a way to stop them."

"The Conduit is the key to your destruction and my salvation," Saren said. "Sovereign needs my help to find it. That is the only reason I have not been indoctrinated."

"Sovereign's manipulating you and you don't even know it," Shepard shouted. "You're already under its power!"

"No! Sovereign needs me." Saren's voice seemed to come from a different position above them. "If I find the Conduit, I've been promised a reprieve from the inevitable. This is my only hope."

 _And now the truth comes out_ , Garrus thought bitterly, checking Wrex's position.

Wrex had also switched to an assault rifle and seemed to be preparing for the opportune moment to attack.

 _Good,_ some distant part of Garrus's mind thought as he switched to a Proton Rounds mod. _He won't get close enough for a shotgun, anyway_.

The old krogan was the least of his concerns, though. Wrex could take care of himself. Garrus was more worried about Shepard. Her biotics _were_ powerful, but Saren had biotics too, with better firepower and position. Garrus didn't think she'd get in effective shotgun range, either, and he doubted her pistol would be enough to penetrate Saren's shields.

 _And,_ he noted, _Saren seems strangely focused on her._

Part of him was offended that the older turian seemed to find them so insignificant a threat. Another part found it very odd that Saren would ignore a threat, no matter how small he found them to be. 'Don't let the enemy hit your flank' was one of the most basic military tactics, one of the first they taught you in the Academy. With enemies on all sides, Saren would know better than to focus on one to the exclusion of all others.

It made Garrus uneasy. Saren was one of the best. So what was he doing? Surely he wouldn't do something so patently stupid without a good reason.

 _Trap_ was the first thing that sprung to his mind, but Garrus couldn't see how ignoring potential threats constituted a good trap.

"Together we can stop Sovereign," Shepard was saying. "We don't have to submit to the Reapers. We can beat them!"

"I no longer believe that, Shepard." Saren sounded ... sad? _No, that can't be right,_ Garrus thought. "The visions cannot be denied. The Reapers are too powerful. The only hope of survival is to join with them."

 _This isn't working, Shepard!_

"You were a Spectre. You were sworn to defend the galaxy." Shepard's voice grew louder as she went on. "Then you broke that vow to save yourself!"

"I'm not doing this for myself! Don't you see?" Saren practically growled with frustration. "Sovereign will succeed. It is inevitable. My way is the only way any of us will survive!"

Garrus spared a second to be amazed. Saren actually _believed_ the nonsense he was spouting! He really _was_ crazy!

It wasn't long before Saren concluded that they weren't going to see eye to eye, though. Garrus could hear from the change in Saren's tone that something was was off. There was something unnatural about it, but Garrus didn't have time to think about it.

 _Just as well,_ he thought. _Dying by nuclear explosion isn't my preferred way to settle an argument._

Saren swooped overhead and Garrus ran out from cover, firing at the hoverboard.

The shots pinged harmlessly off the metal belly of the board. Saren swerved back towards him and fired a blast.

He dodged, barely avoiding the fireball. The crate next to him exploded, pelting him with shrapnel and taking down his shields. He scrambled behind cover, letting his shields regenerate while Wrex took the heat off of him.

He listened to the exchange of fire, assault rifle and the steady pop of a pistol. He wondered if it was Kaidan's or Shepard's.

Peeking around the corner, he saw Kaidan crouched behind cover. _Shepard's then_.

The hoverboard swooped overhead and Garrus flattened himself against the crate. His shields still needed time to regenerate fully. Another hit like the first and it would over.

Another crate exploded. He peered out again cautiously, ready to duck.

He caught sight of Shepard. She ran from cover, dodging Saren's biotic blasts. Kaidan moved to sabotage him with a tech mine.

The mine exploded just past Saren's position. His shields flickered but stopped most of the damage. Saren fired a spray of fire on Kaidan's position, forcing him back into cover.

Garrus sent another tech mine to overload Saren's shields while he was distracted. The hoverboard swerved out of the way and the tech mine sailed past, detonating harmlessly several feet away.

He cursed. _I hate it when I'm right about these things!_ He couldn't get a fix while Saren zipped around on that damned thing.

Shepard leaned out from behind a crate and fired at Saren. He wheeled around and started throwing biotics at her again.

 _Bastard!_ Garrus growled. He was targeting Shepard almost exclusively, sending just enough fire their way to prevent them from concentrating their attacks.

H _e doesn't seem to want to kill her._ Garrus's throat tightened. It wasn't a reassuring thought.

Garrus sent another spray of fire at Saren. _Get away from her, you barefaced._

He returned fire, driving him back into cover. His shields were almost recovered, but not quite yet.

He spotted Wrex nearby.

"Wrex," he hissed. "Do you think your biotics can warp his barrier?"

The krogan edged closer, careful to keep his hump under cover. "Sure," he growled, "if that _hrakhor_ would stop moving so damn much!"

Garrus didn't know what 'hrakhor' meant, but he shared the feeling behind it.

 _No kidding_ , Garrus thought. _If Saren would stop moving, it would make life so much easier for everyone_. But for some reason, Saren didn't really seem all that interested in making their lives easier.

"All right." Garrus took a breath. _We need a diversion_. "On the count of three I'm going to run out there, to _that_ crate _,"_ he pointed, "over there. When Saren focuses on me, warp him!"

Wrex nodded. "Stupid." He chuckled. "But brave, turian. You've got guts, kid."

"Yeah, thanks, I guess," Garrus said, not bothering to hide the caustic drawl in his sub-harmonics. He readied his rifle and checked Saren's position before he could think better of this plan. "One ... Two ..."

Saren flew by.

Garrus ran, firing to draw Saren's attention. He was close enough to see Saren look down, blue cybernetics locking on him with laser precision. There was nothing in those mechanical eyes but cold calculation.

Fear crystallized like ice in Garrus's gut. His shots were impacting the shields but doing no damage. _He must also have a biotic barrier_ , Garrus's mind helpfully supplied. Saren didn't even flinch, his pale, rigid face betraying nothing.

He watched in slow motion as Saren raised the rifle at his chest. _At this distance_ , his mind chimed in again, _kinetic barriers won't do you much good_. He was still feet away from the crate. There was no way he was going to make it in time. The fear moved to his legs, making them heavy and slow.

A sudden sharp crack and Saren jerked away.

Wrex stood wreathed in a blue corona of energy, massive shotgun in his hand.

 _Huh,_ Garrus thought as he stared at the shotgun. _Guess I was wrong._

Then Saren did _something_ and everything was bright.

.

Garrus found himself blinking up at the sky. Purple splotches danced in his vision. He couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his head. For a minute, he couldn't remember where they were.

He sat up, painfully blinking the spots away. Something flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned.

Saren had Shepard by the neck. He dangled her over the edge of the AA Tower. She struggled, but she couldn't get free.

Garrus scrambled for his rifle. Cold panic froze his blood when he spotted it across the platform, too far to reach.

A loud wail from the bombsite sent his head snapping up.

Shepard punched Saren in the face. He stumbled back and Shepard caught herself on the Tower's edge.

Garrus struggled to his feet.

Saren was already on his hoverboard. He didn't look back as he flew off.

Shepard was on her feet, signaling the _Normandy_ for touchdown.

Garrus shakily helped Wrex up, looking around for Kaidan. He spotted the biotic under a crate and went over to help.

The _Normandy_ made a quick landing and Shepard yelled at them to move it.

He snatched his rifle up and Shepard hustled them into the cargo bay. The salarians were already aboard, Garrus dully noted. They helped carry Kaidan in. _Joker must have taken_ _the_ Normandy _to_ _pick them up after_ _the geth hit the bombsite._

As soon as they were on-board, the cargo bay doors slammed shut. Garrus felt the surge of the engines under his feet as they made a quick liftoff.

"All right," Joker's voice came on the intercom, a brittle edge of panic in the pilot's voice. "Everybody hang on!"

Garrus felt the inertial dampeners kick in as they rocketed out of orbit. He'd have sworn he felt the buffeting of the bomb's impact waves, but he knew it had to be his imagination.

* * *

Once cleared by Dr. Chakwas, the team silently filed into the comm room. Even the surviving salarians had come out without significant injury. Everyone had apparently come out unscathed.

 _Except for Williams_ , Garrus's brain traitorously cut in. _She didn't come out at all_.

Kaidan was already sitting in his usual spot in the briefing room, elbows braced on his knees. He looked down, expression set like stone, brown eyes intently focused on some spot on the floor. Ash's chair next to him was empty.

Garrus had to look away. Former investigator or not, there were some things he had no right to examine.

All the furtive movements around him piqued his investigative senses. Everyone avoided looking at anyone else, especially Kaidan. The silence was a wide divide between them, isolating everyone in their own thoughts. Despite himself, he surveyed the team.

He awkwardly caught Tali's eyes through her faceplate as she passed. It was impossible to see her facial expression. He didn't need to. She hastily looked away, fingers compulsively twining together.

He couldn't blame her. Turians had different tells, but he was sure his anxiety broadcasted just as obviously. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke in.

Garrus paused, letting Liara and Wrex by him. They both avoided his eyes, but he wasn't looking at them. He was looking for Shepard.

He finally spied her on the bridge.

She faced away, arms locked behind her back, her head tilted up at one of the windows. Looking at the planet, he assumed. Even from this distance, he could see her stance—straight-backed, rigid, still.

It was ... disconcerting. Shepard always seemed relaxed and ready to spring to action when the moment was right. But now ... She was too _stiff,_ too controlled. It was all wrong, and he couldn't help but feel disturbed.

It wasn't right. None of this was _right._

Shepard always had a way with words. But not with Saren, not when it mattered. On the planet, they'd circled each other, each trying to convince the other they were right.

Garrus couldn't understand it. Saren could have taken the shot and been done with it, but he'd held off, trying to sway her to his side. He could have tossed her over the Tower's edge without a thought, but he didn't. _Why?_

And then there was ... whatever the hell was going on with Saren's voice. It was like something had been switched _off_ in his voice. Now that he thought about it, it reminded him of Benezia on Noveria. She'd tried to talk to Liara, tried so desperately to warn them. Then she'd turned around, and there was nothing but cold disdain in her eyes.

 _Was that indoctrination?_ Sovereign indoctrinated Saren. Garrus had no doubt about that now. Sovereign was clear about what it thought of them. So this exchange, this battle of wills, was Saren's idea and not Sovereign's. _But why would Saren care what Shepard thought?_

Whatever he, or Shepard, hoped to accomplish had failed. Neither was convinced. They both lost, though Garrus was willing to bet Shepard was taking that loss harder than Saren.

Watching her pull away ... it _hurt._ They were a team, a kind of family, and Shepard was the heart that kept them together. He couldn't stand seeing her this way.

Garrus felt a spark of rage. Saren had stolen one of their own. It was one more thing in the growing list he planned to make Saren pay for.

* * *

 **A.N.:** Part 2 of 4!

The fight on Virmire always left me with a lot of questions. Actually, Virmire in general leaves me with a lot of questions, like 'why did Saren need the beacon on Eden Prime when he already had one at his base?' Or 'where's the other two squad mates and why couldn't they go help the other team instead of making Shepard choose?' But I digress.

The other thing that I find interesting is Saren's actions at the end. He goes to neck-lift Shepard and at the AA Tower also adds dangling Shepard over the edge. Why not just shoot? Makes me think Saren was planning to kidnap Shepard.

I know this fight doesn't play out exactly as it does in canon. Let's call it (accidental) artistic liberty, eh? Besides, why would Saren jump off of his hoverboard to begin with?

On the technical side, I'm not sure about the pacing here. Fight scenes always give me trouble. I guess I need more practice. Oh, fight scenes. Why are you so hard? *sigh* Comments, critiques, thoughts and opinions all welcome!


	3. The Mirage of a Memory

3\. **The Mirage of Memory**

Shepard surreptitiously eyed the security detail unloading the shuttle, keeping her face carefully blank.

She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress in a conscious effort to appear disinterested and aloof. She'd never been the heels and black cocktail dress sort of gal. The dress was too tight, too revealing. It hugged her curves, nearly skin-tight. She felt uncomfortably exposed, nearly naked. The appreciative glances Hock's men had been throwing her way hadn't helped in that regard.

Hock's security started their Omni-tool scans.

Her stomach gave vicious, little wrench. She was a vanguard, damn it! She was trained for front-line combat, not infiltration ops.

Shepard kept watch on the guards. It was hard to resist checking the pistol she'd concealed at her inner thigh. She fiddled with the decorative silver clasp at her neck to keep her hands busy, tracing the edge of the triangular point with her thumb.

These grunts weren't armed but Shepard had no doubt that if things got ugly, there were more guards inside. With guns. If it all went to hell, she had her pistol and biotics. Kasumi had guns and her tactical cloak.

Shepard still didn't like their odds. It was too open out here.

She shifted, trying not to fidget. _Maybe it was a mistake to let Kasumi do all the planning._ She missed her armor already.

 _What is it with thieves and needing to sneak around?_ she thought irritably. If Kasumi had just let her fight through the security into Hock's vault, she could have done that no problem. This trying to be discreet was so much worse on her nerves than just storming the place!

Her eyes darted around the plaza, checking for places to duck for cover. Almost against her will, they landed unerringly on him.

 _Or it, I should say_.

Shepard almost asked Kasumi where she'd found the awful thing, but decided better of it. Whoever was in the business of making statues of Saren, it was probably better if she didn't know. Something _unfortunate_ might befall them.

It _was_ a spectacular likeness, though. It could've been the Spectre himself standing there, except for the gaudy gold veneer.

Shepard fought off the nervous fluttering feeling in her chest. _It wouldn't do to appear hysterical,_ she thought, drawing on every ounce of her military bearing to tamp down on the inappropriate tittering threatening to erupt from her throat.

In life, Saren absolutely _terrified_ men like Hock. Before Sovereign, before the geth, the galaxy knew him for two things: ruthlessness and his hatred of humans. That now, after his death, a petty human criminal like Donovan Hock would accept such a "gift" was, well ... _in poor tastes_ would be an understatement.

Fortunately, said petty human criminal came out to greet the new arrivals.

Shepard fought the urge to sigh with relief at the timely interruption. Instead, she gathered her wits about her, redirecting that energy into appearing impatient with the delay. _After all, Allison Gunn is not a woman who likes waiting._

They had a party to crash. Shepard was all too ready to shelve thoughts of a certain turian Spectre and get to work.

* * *

Shepard couldn't believe it.

After all her worry about the guards, getting through Hock's security had been so easy it was almost a letdown.

Kasumi's plan flew in the face of all good tactical sense. The audacity of it was like a bad joke, almost begging Hock to put it together. Kasumi had even gone so far as using Saren to smuggle their weapons in. Saren and Shepard, the two most famous Spectres in galaxy. It was about as subtle as an elbow to the ribs, complete with winks and a nudge.

And it had _worked!_

She couldn't figure it out. She passed off Hock's obliviousness as him having more credits than sense. With the rumors of her return, she'd been paranoid that everyone would see through her disguise. After all, Kasumi caked up her face and made her wear this dress, but even two years dead, she thought there wasn't a person in the galaxy who didn't know who she was.

She'd half expected that when Hock gave his little speech, one of his guests would exclaim: "Hey, isn't that Shepard?"

Not one of them had even spared her a second glance as she snooped around.

At least she could appreciate the irony.

"Here you go, Shep," Kasumi chirped as she opened the hidden drawer from the base of the statue. "You go ahead and get dressed. I'll go scout ahead and disable any security."

"Right."

Kasumi cloaked and disappeared, the slight pattering of her feet the only evidence she had been there.

Shepard waited until she couldn't hear them any more before moving to the statue.

She stood for a moment in the silent room. Kasumi had been chattering in her ear the whole mission. The sounds of the party above had faded away. The sudden absence was jarring.

She strained her ears, the sound of her own breathing loud in the silence. It was just her, alone in a room with something that wore his face.

It was childish, but some part of her felt that it - _he_ \- was watching her. It wasn't even that she had to take her clothes off, though the idea of undressing in front of Saren would be enough to creep out _anyone._

She knelt to the retrieve her weapons and armor, aware of its presence looming above her.

"They still don't believe me about the Reapers, you know," she said quietly, as much to fill the void of silence as anything. She slid on the underarmor skin before taking her dress off. "Well, except Cerberus, and they're terrorists."

"Figures, doesn't it?" She pulled her boots on. "The Council thinks _you_ manipulated me into believing in Reapers while _terrorists_ decide to help me fight them."

Shepard snorted humorlessly. "I know." Shepard popped the lower armor into place. "You _told_ me this is why you didn't go to the Council."

 _We fight even when we know we cannot win,_ Saren growled in her mind.

"I won't give up," Shepard snarled at the memory. "As long as I'm breathing, I'm fighting. That's why they brought me back." Her mouth twisted into a scowl. "I guess we're just too _useful_ to throw away, you and me."

She furiously snapped her armor into place. They'd brought her back to fight yet _another_ threat to the galaxy. As for Saren, well, they couldn't bring him back. _Not that they would have, even if they could._ But even in death, the Council still found him useful as a scapegoat for their problems.

It was all Saren's fault. Shepard was just crazy and easily manipulated. Never mind the systematic annihilation of an entire race by enormous machines that she saw in her dreams every night.

She slid her weapons into place. "Even now, I dream of them." Her hand hovered over the missile launcher. "They're still screaming. Sometimes, you're there." She paused. "You'd think dying would have changed that."

Shepard's eyes pricked with unshed tears.

After everything he did, she felt she should be _happy_ he was dead. But she _remembered_. She could remember the moment she realized he'd waited, _delayed Sovereign's orders_ , for her to arrive. The relief in his eyes said more than words ever could.

Then he pulled the trigger.

She didn't want his _thanks,_ his damned gratitude.

Her hands clenched the missile launcher, and for a moment, she wanted to blow the statue apart. She hated it, remembering the near-physical blow of despair at the sound of shattering glass. Two years dead and she still carried him under her skin. Grieving him, because no one else would.

"I couldn't save you," she whispered fiercely, glaring at him. "You chose your path. I can't help if they blame you. I didn't even get a say how they talked about _me."_

She hefted the missile launcher, strapping it to her back.

Gear in place, she strode off to find Kasumi. She could almost feel those cold, blue eyes following her out of the room.

* * *

 _Whoever decided on_ that _little piece of work_ , Shepard decided, glaring venomously at the viewport over the bed, _is a sadist_.

Shepard flopped back on the couch, aching legs propped up on some pillows. She hadn't walked in heels since high school prom. Her feet gave a throb, reminding her that it should be at least another decade before she tried it again.

 _How does Miranda do this everyday? She must have calves of steel,_ Shepard mused. She lifted her glass off the table and downed the last of her wine.

She dropped her arm over her eyes and sighed.

The last person she wanted to think about was Saren. So, of course he was the _only_ person she would be able to think about.

"Damn him," she said, without much heat. "Damn him, Hock and his gunship. Damn sneaking into parties." She slid further down on the couch. "Damn Bekenstein while I'm at it and high society in general."

She sighed, longer this time, then sat up and snatched a bottle off the table. She poured herself another glass.

 _Might as well go all out if I'm going to have a pity party_ , she thought, raising a self-mocking toast to the fish. They swam without paying her the least bit of attention, which she figured was rather fitting.

 _There's something sad_ , she thought, _in this_... 'Obsession' was the only word she could think of. Shepard didn't think she'd ever been obsessed about anything in her life, but she guessed this must be what it felt like: plagued by an unwanted connection, to a man who appalled her.

She swirled the wine, watching the hues shift in the deep blue liquid. She held it up and it caught the light, almost seeming to glow from within. It reminded her of his eyes, and she looked away.

Why couldn't she get away from him? He was in her mind and in her dreams and even in her damned _wine._ She wanted to forget like everyone else seemed to. So why did she mourn a man no one else thought deserved it?

Shepard took a sip. It was a sweet burn down her throat, pleasantly tingly. She was already starting to feel the effects of the first glass. Things were starting to take on a floaty, not-quite-there quality.

She dropped her head back against the couch cushions and watched the fish swim in lazy circles.

How many died because of him? How many good people? Shepard hadn't known Benezia, but Liara swore she was a good person once. Shiala had said much the same.

And Ash ... _God,_ how she missed Ash.

Yet ... Saren _wasn't_ solely responsible. Sovereign had caught him in its web, used him as a puppet. He'd been unable to escape or even disobey until the end, and people hated him for it.

Then Sovereign had stolen even his redemption. Even Fai Dan, that poor bastard, managed to stop the Thorian from using him against her. But not Saren. Death hadn't stopped Sovereign. _Or the Council._

Shepard swallowed another sip and closed her eyes.

It was so much easier to hate him when she could pretend she didn't understand. She once thought if she could only understand him, she could find a way to stop him. She had been naïve.

Shepard put the empty glass down. _No, understanding only makes it harder._

Saren's downfall was only that he found Sovereign first. Sovereign had gotten its tentacles in his mind, warped the very things he saw and thought. His mind wasn't his own.

 _And who can fight their mind when it's no longer under their control?_

Shepard got up, ignoring the feeble protest from her feet.

Saren was never a good person, but he tried to do the right thing in his own twisted way. And in doing so, he saddled her with the responsibility of dealing with the fall out.

She hadn't asked for this, any of it. Everyone was pushing her into this role, slapping her with all these labels. Survivor. Spectre. Savior. Everyone kept trying to make her into some symbol, something to hang their hopes and dreams on.

She wanted to scream, but all the labels choked her. No matter how much she pounded against their box, they kept pushing her back inside. She was just a _soldier_. She'd never wanted to be anything else. Why didn't anyone understand that? Why didn't anyone _understand?_

Shepard found herself in front of the door to her cabin and stopped. "EDI. Is Garrus awake?"

"Yes," the smooth female voice replied. "He is in the battery, calibrating the Thanix."

Shepard bit back a burst of hysterical laughter. _Of course he is._ She turned to face the blue orb that popped up. "Is he busy?"

"Shall I ask him," EDI inquired politely.

"Yes, please," Shepard replied equally as politely, ignoring the hitching in her chest. _It has to be the wine_ , she thought, holding a hand to her head.

EDI paused for a second. "He says that he is not."

"Good," Shepard said, wiping her eyes. "Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."

* * *

 **A.N.:** I rewrote this chapter three times and I'm still not 100% about it. I decided to post it anyway.

I always thought the scene in Kasumi's loyalty mission where Shepard has that moment with the Saren statue was a missed opportunity to revisit Shepard's ME1 emotions. To me, it implied that even though Shepard is busy with the Collectors and Cerberus and whatnot, they're not really over everything that happened in the first game. There's still something with Saren that's still hanging. It was this moment specifically that inspired this fan fic. Which is why I'm kinda bummed that this chapter didn't turn out as well as I'd have liked.

I went back and tweaked the previous chapters after some advisement that it wasn't very descriptive for people who haven't played Mass Effect. I suppose that's a valid point, since I had written it under the assumption that the people reading would be Mass Effect fans. Hopefully the imagery is a little clearer now.


	4. The Meaning of a Mess

4\. **The Meaning of a Mess**

Garrus was trying to finish up his last round of gun calibrations for the night when the door pinged.

EDI let him know Shepard was on the way, so he wasn't surprised. While EDI hadn't given him a reason for the late-night visit, he figured it was about the Thanix upgrade they'd recently installed. Sure, the timing was a little odd, but he knew Shepard kept strange hours. She'd wanted to have a test firing soon, so he'd been calibrating non-stop. If they ran into the Collectors again, he'd make sure the guns were up to scratch.

He pressed a button and the doors swished open behind him. He heard Shepard enter and he smiled, opened his mouth to greet her, then shut his jaws with a soft click when she walked past him without a word.

She planted herself at the railing to his right, looking out over the battery with her back to him.

His fingers hovered over the console's haptic display.

 _Well, that's odd._ She generally paused in the doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge her before entering. It was part of their ritual and the sudden change in paradigm threw him.

His old C-Sec senses awakened from a long slumber, seeking out clues to this strange, new behavior.

Her white, sleeveless shirt just touched the top of her black shorts. _No insignia anywhere, so probably not Cerberus-issued._ It'd been strange at first seeing her in Cerberus colors. Then he realized Cerberus everything was just part of being on this ship. He'd gotten used to her clothes, like everything else, being plastered with their symbol. He no longer felt even a twinge of discomfort at seeing it.

One of her long, bare legs was wrapped behind the other, cutting off his thought process.

Garrus blinked at the strange flexibility of her knees. He tilted his head, then shook the strange thought away.

Her bare arms were braced against the railing, glittering with sweat. Her shirt clung to her body, tan skin peeking through the white fabric in places.

How had he never noticed just how _tiny_ her waist was before now? Damn, she was shapely. He'd bet he could almost touch his fingertips around her entire waist. And humans were so light, it would be so easy to lift her up and lay her down. That fabric looked thin enough to shred with his talons alone, so he'd have to be careful not to tear it off her.

 _Wait, what am I thinking?_ Garrus tore his eyes away, mandibles flared in surprise at his own impropriety.

The only time he'd ever seen her like this was on the first _Normandy,_ and it had been an accidental indiscretion. Shepard was never very formal, but a commanding officer _intentionally_ coming to see a subordinate in such a degree of undress?

The heat that flooded through him had nothing to do with the temperature in the battery. _If she were turian, this would be a very different situation._

Realizing the danger of continuing that train of thought, Garrus decided he'd better say something before he embarrassed himself.

"Uh, was there something you needed, Shepard," he asked, thankful she couldn't hear what his sub-harmonics were saying.

"Do you ever think about Saren anymore?"

Garrus's mandibles tightened. "Not really." He saved his work and closed down the console's display. "Do you?"

She shrugged a shoulder, seeming to avoid his gaze. "To me, it doesn't seem like all that long ago we were chasing him across the galaxy."

That was hard to wrap his head around. Saren was little more than a distant memory at this point, a dull, insignificant twinge of irritation at the back of Garrus's mind. Certainly not worth thinking about.

He turned to face her. "What made you ask?"

She gave an uncomfortable sort of laugh, then pivoted toward him, leaning her hip against the metal bar. "I told you about Kasumi's mission on Bekenstein."

Garrus nodded, his mandibles flaring in annoyance. Why Shepard had thought it was a good idea to go without backup, he'd _never_ understand.

She shot him a rueful grin, holding up a hand to forestall his complaint. "Well, Kasumi got our weapons in with a 'gift' to Mr. Hock."

He mimicked her stance, leaning against the battery's console to face her. "A gift?"

"It was a gold statue of Saren, if you'd believe it." She gave an amused huff. "He'd probably have hated that." Then she grimaced. "I was glad to get out of that dress, but it made changing clothes a bit uncomfortable."

Garrus bared his teeth at the idea of it. If anyone had discovered her at that point, things would have gone bad damned quick. Kasumi should have come up with a better way to get her in. The plan was sloppy, and she was lucky Hock hadn't figured things out earlier.

"But, before that," Shepard continued, ignoring his displeasure, "there was this moment. Looking up at it, at _him ..."_ She was quiet, staring past him, and he had a moment of déjà vu. "I still don't know how to feel about him."

"You don't have to feel anything about him, Shepard." He folded his arms. "He's _dead."_

"I know that, Garrus." She gave a soft laugh, but not a happy one. She was quiet a while, not looking at him. "He was indoctrinated and he didn't even know it. The Council, Sovereign, the geth ... they all used him. No matter what he did, he was never more than a tool."

"It still bothers you, doesn't it?" Garrus frowned.

She had startled when Saren thanked her. When he shot himself, Shepard reeled back and Garrus thought she had been shot too. Then she calmly went to the master control panel and continued the mission like nothing had happened. She'd kept it together until well after the mission was over.

Shepard folded in on herself, shoulders hunched. "He sacrificed himself for nothing. He tried to do the right thing in the end. No one knows about it but us." She turned, pacing. "I can't stop the galaxy from hating him, but they hate him for the wrong reasons."

"So what?" Garrus shifted, trying to hide his irritation. "He still deserves it."

Garrus caught a slight wobble in her steps and wondered if she'd been hurt on the mission. She stopped, turned to him with a strange expression on her face. He wasn't sure how to read it.

Shepard moved to the rail again. "What if _I_ had found Sovereign instead?" She gripped the bar until her knuckles whitened, looking at the Thanix. "What if I were indoctrinated to believe helping the Reapers was the only way to save the galaxy? They would just as easily hate me, too. Would I deserve it?"

 _No_ , he wanted to shout. _You're nothing like him. He was already a monster, even before Sovereign!_ He wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn't come.

She sighed. "We still don't know how indoctrination works. But if it can be done, it can be undone, too. I just kept hoping, you know?"

He _didn't_ know. The only regret Garrus had was that by the time he put a round through Saren's head, Saren was already dead.

"After Virmire, I think I pitied him as much as I despised him." Her gaze settled back on him. "I think he'd rather be hated. He was used to hate."

"Lucky him. He gets just what he wanted," Garrus said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice. Maybe the galaxy hated him for the wrong reasons, but he still deserved it. _What difference does it make?_

"Seeing him again," she said, running her hand through her hair. "Even a statue, brought it all back." She put a hand on the bar, steadying herself. "Sometimes, I just wish ..."

She bent, leaning heavily on the rail. She looked like she was going to be sick.

Garrus could smell a slight, sweet scent and realized with a start that Shepard was probably more than a little drunk.

"Shepard, are you-"

"I can't help him anymore." She turned to him, and he froze at what he saw in her eyes. "Why won't he leave me alone, Garrus?" She turned away.

Garrus took a step forward and stopped. His hands fluttered helplessly by his side.

Shepard took a deep breath. She stood and turned to him.

He opened his mouth to say something.

She cut him off with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you, Garrus. I'll let you get back to work."

Belatedly, he took a few steps after her and stopped. He wasn't sure what he would do if he caught up with her.

 _I'll give her one thing_ , Garrus thought, staring at the closed door. _I've never seen a quicker, more sudden retreat_.

He'd always thought of Shepard unbreakable. Somehow, she always managed to pick herself up and keep going. But he also never thought she could die, and the universe had delighted in proving him wrong on that point.

 _Were these the cracks starting to show?_ If Shepard went to pieces, they were in trouble.

And going to pieces because of _Saren?_

Even in death he had his talons in Shepard. The thought of that pallid, mechanical lunatic made his jaw clench. _  
_

_That barefaced bastard._ Garrus almost wished Cerberus could resurrect him.

He snarled, baring his teeth. _I'd tear his throat out, then kill him a few times more just for good measure._

How could she care about that _thing?_ He was scum. _Worse_ than scum.

Garrus's fist shot out, gauntlet clanging harshly against the wall. His knuckles ached from the sudden violence. He was past caring.

He braced himself against the wall, wishing there was something of Saren left so he could rend it to pieces. The look on Shepard's face. It was pain. He hadn't recognized it because he'd never seen it on her before. It didn't belong on her face.

He threw himself off the wall. _I shouldn't have let her leave._ Garrus stalked the battery, eyes wild with rage.

 _I should go up there and tell her exactly what I think Saren_ deserves. He ground his teeth, mandibles spread wide. _How can she think about him?_

No, this was something he would not stand for. _I'll_ make _her forget him._

"Officer Vakarian."

Garrus instinctively spun at the sudden sound, talons at the ready. He lowered them when he realized it was just EDI.

"What is it, EDI?" he growled, trying to force himself into a measure of composure.

"My sensors indicate your heart rate has increased significantly with a substantial rise in your body's stress hormones." EDI's hologram popped up. "Would you like me to alert Dr. Chakwas?"

Garrus imagined the doctor's response. "I don't think that will be necessary, EDI."

EDI paused. "Then this is a response to your conversation with Shepard?"

Under other circumstances, Garrus would have found it funny that he could tell when the AI was being curious and not just making an observation. As it was, it only further nettled him. He displayed his teeth in response.

"Yes," he said, coldly.

"I do not understand," the AI said. "Saren Arterius is deceased. Why does this cause distress?"

He snorted. "That's a long conversation, EDI. Don't you have work to do?"

"I am performing at optimal capacity, Officer Vakarian." The AI managed to sound polite and affronted by the question.

Garrus almost laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet." He turned, walking to the battery.

Calibrations were out of the question. As bad as his hands were shaking, he'd probably wind up undoing most of his work anyway. _And it's not like the AI has anywhere to go_. He put his hands on the console to steady himself.

"It's like this," he started, trying to find a way to explain things like bad memories and anger to an AI. "We spent a long time hunting Saren down."

"Yes," EDI said. "The mission reports are logged in my databanks."

"Then you know Saren shot himself." Garrus's mandibles dropped in a snarl. "I wanted that bastard dead from the start, but not Shepard." He turned to look at the orb over his shoulder, a grin on his face that no one would mistake for happiness. "No. She wanted him to see _reason,"_ he drew the word out venomously. "Tried to give him a second chance. Instead, he blew his brain out."

"And this upsets you," EDI asked, her holographic 'eye' blinking.

 _"Upsets_ me?" Garrus chuckled, low and bitter. "I say it's cause for a damn _celebration_. But Shepard is funny like that." Garrus turned back to the main gun. "She felt bad for Saren. Sovereign indoctrinated him." He scoffed. "Never mind that he was a torturer and murderer even before that."

"If his death does not upset you," EDI said from behind, "what is causing your distress?"

Garrus wheeled, leveling a glare at the blue orb. _"Really,_ EDI?"

The AI paused, blinking. "Observation suggests Shepard's mental state is the source of your present stress," she offered tentatively. "However, Saren Arterius seems to be the focus your anger."

"You've got that right," Garrus growled.

"This suggests that you hold him responsible for Shepard's current state," EDI said. "But Saren Arterius is dead. It is illogical for him to be responsible."

Garrus barked a laugh. "We organics aren't always logical, EDI." He walked to the rail, leaning back against it. "Saren may be dead, but Shepard's memory of him isn't."

"You are angry at Saren because Shepard remembers him?"

"Yes! No. Well, kind of." Garrus paused, rubbing his neck in annoyance. "Shepard sees his death as a failure. Her failure." He snarled again. "She blames herself for what he did."

"She could not control his actions," EDI stated.

"I _know."_ Garrus almost choked on his frustration. _The damn AI can see it, so why can't you, Shepard?_ He pushed himself off the rail. "She's tormenting herself because of him! And he never deserved her sympathy in the first place."

"I see." The blue orb blinked. "Then you are angry because you do not like Shepard feeling upset for someone you consider unworthy of her attention."

Garrus opened his mouth to deny.

"I find organics difficult to predict," EDI continued, cutting off his protest. "Your emotions do not follow logical order, but this makes you interesting to observe." The orb flickered. "However, in conversations on the _Normandy,_ Shepard shows a very high success rate at predicting the emotions of others."

"She does have a talent for that." Garrus crossed his arms. "A talent that usually gets us neck-deep in trouble. And mercs, on occasion."

"I once asked her what process she used to make her predictions," EDI said. "Her answer was not very clear, though she mentioned 'putting herself in someone else's shoes.'"

Garrus shook his head in exasperation. "Sounds like Shepard."

The hologram blinked. "An extranet search revealed this to be a human colloquialism describing empathy. Her answer suggests she assumes the other person's emotions mirror her own if she were experiencing the situation."

He started pacing the battery again. "Yes, I'd say that's an accurate description of empathy," Garrus said, making sure his voice dripped with sarcasm.

"In that case," EDI replied, "her ability to empathize is important to how she processes information about her surroundings. Based on observation, her ability to predict others' emotions and actions determines her decisions. Asking her not to utilize this function would compromise her ability to act."

"I'm not saying she shouldn't try to understand, EDI," Garrus snapped. "Just that she shouldn't let it bother her."

"Feeling the emotions of others is a part of empathy by definition, is it not?"

"So I just shouldn't worry about it," Garrus demanded, a surge of anger returning. "I'm not going to sit by and let her suffer."

"I am sure she appreciates that, Officer Vakarian," EDI replied. Garrus wondered if he had actually heard a hint of smugness or if it was just his imagination. "When in distress, she asked specifically about you."

Garrus froze in place. "S- she did?"

"Yes," EDI said. "It is logical to assume she values your opinion."

Garrus wasn't sure what to say to that. Instead, he asked, "What is she doing now?"

"I am afraid I cannot answer that," EDI replied. "The Commander has stipulated that the happenings in her quarters are private." The 'eye' blinked. "However, I can tell you that she is not in any danger."

"Somehow, that's less than encouraging, EDI." Garrus rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"My apologies. My data on organic emotions are insufficient to be adequately encouraging." EDI paused. "That was a joke."

Garrus snorted. "I think you need more practice."

"Yes. Were you volunteering assistance, Officer Vakarian?"

"I'm probably not the one to ask about that," Garrus said, leaning back against the battery. "Thanks, EDI."

"You are welcome." The blue orb popped out of existence. "Goodnight, Officer Vakarian."

"Yeah," Garrus mumbled. "You too."

* * *

 **A.N.:** The end! Well, unless I get some strange urge to write more. Which I doubt, but who knows? In any event, this was all that was planned.

This chapter fought me like whoa. I'm not satisfied, but I'm tired of poking at it. Gah. At least it's an end, even if it's an imperfect one.


End file.
